


Solitude

by KuronekoGrimm



Series: The Ivory King Bows Only to His Pet [3]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Between Arc 2 and Arc 3, Blood and Violence, But with Vegeta, Canon-Typical Violence, Daily Life for Vegeta, Drama, Emotions, End of Arc 2, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Gen, Mentions of Reader/You, One Shot, Random Aliens - Freeform, Where Are You, Young Prince Vegeta, masked emotions, where did you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuronekoGrimm/pseuds/KuronekoGrimm
Summary: You are no longer around, everyday is a fight for the young prince Vegeta. Unable to find you, he has to play according to the role he was given like a puppet, the attack dog of Frieza's force. Ridiculed for being a Saiyan by other soldiers, and tiptoeing the death games that Frieza has 'lovingly' been giving him. He's cornered by every side and forced to put on the mask of a proud Saiyan warrior and keep up the appearance of being top of his abilities to prevent any others from getting ideas.At least, until he can find you again.
Relationships: Frieza & Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Frieza (Dragon Ball)/Reader, Frieza (Dragon Ball)/You, Nappa & Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: The Ivory King Bows Only to His Pet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988776
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> SO, yeah, I made a one-shot on our little prince Vegeta. I'm making it very clear, these events are canon to the overall story! It takes place between Arc 2 and Arc 3! And I left hints as to when Arc 2 ends so you all can torture yourselves when it crops up in Galaxy, because I'm like that. 
> 
> This damn story is the reason why you all don't have the next chapter by the way, it has grated my brain until I wrote it down. This and a very special, very long, still being written, fluffy one-shot that was supposed to come out on Christmas. Yeah, that didn't work out but I'm still writing it, I just kept getting ideas while writing and then I would write those ideas in and so now, it's more than the original 300 word prompt I first came up with and I know you all will enjoy when it shows up, so I can't complain too much.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this look into the mind of a fifteen year old Prince Vegeta, and a side of Frieza that he wouldn't show Pet. I hope I did them both justice with their writing.

Sweat beads against the Saiyan's brow, a furrow between them from his blackened and agitated gaze. Eyes glaring at the visage of the opponent set before him, one who had mocked him for far too long.

And yet, it still didn't lessen the rage that boiled under the surface of his skin. The prince scoffs, brushing the thinning stream of blood that flowed from the cut on his lip with a haphazard bruised knuckle. 

The sparring room they had adjourned to for the battle was as pleasing to the eye as the battered body laying in shambles against the far wall. There was splashes of blood in places, torn up metal with exposed and sparking circuitry, which coincided with flickers on the ceiling lights. Panicked and whimpering of the broken arm he suffered from the adolescent, shrapnel lodged from the impact against the confines of the room is Prince Vegeta's victim.

"You beast! Look at what you've done to my arm!" The soldier snaps, floundering to get up with his stumbling legs, cradling his weakened limb close with a shaking grip. "You're just an attack dog for Lord Frieza, can't even think for himself! Just like your race was!" He continues to spout to a visibly disgruntled monkey.

A firm line is drawn on the male's lips, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. "Please, I am Prince Vegeta! The only one without a competent brain appears to be you, scum. You picked a fight with me, knowing the result." He states, rolling his black eyes. "I even let you live, consider it pity!"

The other fails to come up with a feasible response, one that would make him lose face.

Well, more of it. Seeing as the man decided to beat the royalty of a dying race. Their planet destroyed by unknown means and the last remains of them were scattered amongst the various factions of the Frieza force. A mere handful were left. And out of all of them, he chose the youngest, the prince.

A fifteen-year-old boy in his race's age. 

Although the Saiyan prince wasn't the strongest, even with their biology, compared to ranked officers in the cold reptile's military. Saiyans were a valuable asset that were classed higher than normal soldiers, not many could withstand them in their aggressive assault. But because of their lack of numbers, or presence other than their gruff attitudes about pride, many soldiers are falsely led to believe the opposite. 

Vegeta turns his head before spitting up blood that flushed into his mouth from his stinging insults. Of course, he wasn't above doing it in the direction of the cornered animal he had just beat mercilessly. The motion only disturbing the defeated more. The Saiyan wasn't caring of it at all, instead standing tall as he struts away with rage rather than pride.

Nappa is there to greet the heir, at the doorway of the disrupted room, that even the door has lapsed into disarray, sliding motions shuttering unevenly. The large man laughs boisterously, hitting the young man's back as a grand gesture of his pride for the win he scored.

"Look at that! Another win for our prince! That weakling had it coming taking you on." He snorts, looking on viciously as a few of the soldier's companions were escorting him to the nearest infirmary for his rank through another door. Shame and arrogance keeping him from taking the closer route, the one that would bring him closer to the monkey that nearly killed him.

'Look at you, you were amazing! You're so tough now, my little prince.' 

Vegeta could hear in his head, your voice bouncing through in that playful cheer you had. A soft hand running through the mountain of hair he had as he'd snap at your insolence. All before you'd place that hand against his cheek, looking over the damages sustained.

'It looks like it hurts, but you have less than last time, so that's a blessing. Let's get you patched up!'

The memories only irritate him more, a gritted scowl in his fangs before he shoves off the meaty hand of his guardian that rested on his shoulder. "He wasn't worth my time." Nappa huffs in irritation at his attitude before shaking his head, mumbling under his breathing about the delinquency of youth.

His feet direct him past a small sectored medbay, a pause in his step before he looks back at it as if it came as a surprise. Another glare blackens his gaze, clenching a white gloved fist tightly at his side. The Saiyan is swift to turn away, tense figure as he stalks away, faster now, regardless of his injuries.

It wasn't the same one. The infirmary you were found in was replaced by another, more incompetent fellow. It wasn't the one that had that insufferable Amphibiren, or the overly trusting, yet anxious Lemurian pet.

But more importantly, it didn't have you. You weren't hidden behind a false wall in a cryopod that kept you still, unmoving in time, kept you unknowing of the world around you that silver-tongued reptile orchestrated. 

The parts that were ugly.

He stills looks for you, finding himself seeking you out or perking at a whisper in the wind that sounded like you, only to find that nothing is there. It's his imagination or a faceless female worker drone that in his haze, he'd mistaken for your voice.

It was hard when you had suddenly disappeared. You, your hound, and Varus. Without a word of warning. Left him with only the memories of you, caring for him even though you weren't his to care for. 

But with the time that has passed, it's become easier as well.

No less infuriating, but easier. He did hate that you were slowly slipping away from his thoughts.

There was one thing that he hated more though, the only person with the ability to make you disappear like you never existed in the first place. 

The frigid emperor that danced around the fact that he knew where you were, making every encounter rage-inducing and yet, terrifying on a new level.

Prince Vegeta huffs out a breath, sitting down on the modest cot of his personal quarters without further interruption. He's quick to pull off the cracked armor and suit, leaving the poor lad in the black shorts that fit to his form. The show of skin allowed the wounds he sustained to breath, bruises from impact were already reduced in size. And by the morning, he'd be left with the deeper of cuts darkened with their healing. He lays back quietly, not bothering with blanket folded at the end of the bed, the body heat his race put off with more than enough, and with war running through his veins from his earlier battle, he was practically overheated. In terms of treatment, having his own apartment was far better than sharing it with a few roommates. However, it was still lacking, seeing as he was still a prince. 

Prince of a dead race, but nonetheless a prince.

~x~

The small angry monkey pants quietly, working his core muscles with simple forms of training within his private quarters. Regardless of the short rest period, most injuries were now thin white scars that were not noticeable from a distance at this point. Like most other scars he had decorating his body. His tail curls lightly behind him as he pulls his body weight above the bars with relative ease.

In order to stay alive and useful in the Frieza force, one had to be always in peak condition or risk being mauled by the rest of the combatants in an effort to climb the ranks. Using this discord kept all quick on their feet and cutthroat and platoons of soldiers were only loyal to their commanding officers and the emperor but were reluctant to trust others that weren't within their group. And if you were found without a group to back you up, you had better hope that you were strong enough to scare away the scavengers.

And Vegeta...

Vegeta was the commanding officer of only three personnel. Himself and two Saiyans. Nappa and Raditz. A cruel joke given to him by Frieza as he was the youngest, the least experienced, and easily looked down upon because of those things. 

The scouter he had lays on top of his lightweight body suit and near the rest of his armor pieces. It beeps noisily, disrupting his morning warm-ups. 

His ebony eyes dart over to it mid curl, a frown burrowing further on his face as he stretches to grab it with his brown furred fifth limb. A small growl worms up his throat before he even places the device over his eye. 

Orders directly from the frosty lizard himself. 

His eyes only narrow further in his agitation at reading the message. The young man hops off the makeshift bars and is quick to dress in his uniform after a quick shower then makes his way to the command center where Lord Frieza would be present. Tail curled across his waist tightly, even tucked slightly under the lower frame of his protective chest piece to make it hard to grab at. His set frown hides gritted teeth, the only physical representation of his fury, however those with observational skills could identify his clenched jaw.

Still just a teenager and had so many responsibilities and weight thrust upon his back.

The large, imposing doors of the command center shutter open with his proximity, allowing him to see the hover chair Frieza had taken to using with his reign. Something he realized with your help, the lizard only used it to be more intimidating and mysterious. 

People were less likely to take him seriously if they squared up his height, so a large mechanical chair helped with the illusion. 

The emperor was rooted in the command center, looking out into the vastness of space with a few holographic screens detailing the information of planets in this sector of space due to numerous non-combat scouts. Prince Vegeta only narrowly slips up with a scowl forming on his face at the sight of the horned head and gently twitching tail peeking from the half egg shelled device the reptile was resting in. At his sides were the ever loyal, or subjugated, Dodoria and Zarbon, each covering the additional findings that any soldiers had informed them of. Such as native species that had conformed to the tyrant's hold that had specific details on their home planets or, more likely, their rival species.

The right-hand men were given control to any soldiers, non-combatant as well, but were given the choice of an elite squadron under them. Zarbon had one, Dodoria did not. There was Captain Ginyu, who was given title as a special elite with his selectively trained men reserved as a promising scare tactic to straighten unruly soldiers that were not within eyesight of Frieza.

The Saiyan schools his face into a cold front, an impassive frown decorating his features as his limbs have him traveling closer to the three formidable individuals. Shamefully, he notes, it's easier to slip into a kneel, head bowed and looking at the gray colored metalworks that lined the floor. "Lord Frieza, I, Prince Vegeta have answered your summons." He barks out loudly like a well-trained dog. 

There's a soft twitch from the long lavender tipped tail that years with the frosty lizard told the ape that the tyrant was pleased and amused by his greeting. From the dimming reflection of the metalworks Vegeta was forced to look upon while kneeling, he can see Frieza turn his head to side eye him with a grating smirk. "Excellent. Zarbon, Dodoria, you may now leave." He orders, a hand delicately raising to wave them off, holding a half-filled glass of dark liquid swaying within it.

Treatment was one thing that hadn't changed within the force. The large pink cactus of person is the first to follow his direction, sending their own disgusting egotistical grin at the downed Saiyan. Passing by with heavy steps, including one directly over the splayed fingers of the prince.

The shock of pain settles with a quiet grunt, a twitch running through his arm as Vegeta forces himself not to move an inch.

"Oops." Dodoria chuckles, slow in removing the offending limb as they continue their departure.

Zarbon is less disturbing with his exit, pity welling in his eyes at the young man, but it only lingers for a moment. And then gold eyes are drawn away, intent on leaving just as quiet as his footsteps were. 

Vegeta didn't know which one he hated more. Dodoria for their blatant disrespect that made its presence known through physical torment, which stemmed from their dislike for you. Species like theirs cared not for your particular beauty, and your hold on Frieza was another thing to loathe. With you gone, Vegeta was a close second. Like the shield he never knew he had before was removed and that meant he was free game to Dodoria's frustrations.

Or Zarbon, one who had no personal feelings for you either way but saw the closeness he shared with you. And now, only gave him stares of pity as he grew up without you to protect him from the physical and mental strains of being in Frieza's forces without a higher being on his side. The royal lizard enjoyed watching him struggle and jump through metaphorical hoops that he crafted, sending him on high pressure missions and suicide attempts.

Like if you were back, you'd see that it was the mission that brought Vegeta's demise, and not the emperor behind it. Frieza would be seen as nothing more than a regretful ruler, remorseful to you for sending out the 'brave little Vegeta that only wanted to achieve great accomplishments to show you when you were brought back'. 

And if the young prince survived, it would also be his gain. A new planet harvested, new workforce with the survivors, and an abundance of resources available for trade with the other empires of the galaxies.

Prince Vegeta was sure, this summon was no different from any other he's served before. A mission for massacre. His ear twitches lightly at the sound of the door finally shuttering closed, announcing the exit of both right-hand men. Leaving only the tyrant and teenager in the command center.

"I must congratulate you my little monkey." Frieza begins, the hover turning to face the young boy. The reptile doesn't linger within the contraption, padded feet hitting the floor softly as the long tail slips and sways in the menace of a snake behind the emperor. "I heard you defeated another unruly squad leader last evening singlehandedly. It's always so lovely to hear your skills aren't slacking when I don't have a task for you." He finishes with malicious honey in his voice, although the snicker rooted under the words was clear.

"He was a loud-mouthed annoyance that dared to ridicule the experience you've been giving me, sir." The Saiyan answers, a calm hum as the prickled words of the tyrant wash over him. "I would not disappoint or fall behind when there's a greater goal in mind." Ebony eyes dare to look up at blood red that stare unwaveringly back.

Animosity on both sides. 

Even with one 'deferring' to the other with a practiced kneel, one close fisted hand brought up to their chest and the other splayed against the cold floor for support.

Prince Vegeta speaks your name, your real name, not as the Pet of Frieza, but as an entity outside of him. "I will see them again. You won't be able to stop me."

A twisted smirk curls on black lips, the tyrant tilts his head in mock curiosity. "Is that right." His tone isn't one for question and narrowed look his eyes settle in give nothing away to the fury the lizard must be feeling. "You'll have to survive long enough to get that chance now, won't you?" Spear tipped tail lashes at his question, the thicker scales made a vastly different sound on the metal, lightly scraping thin curls of its components while the tail tip traces over it.

The Saiyan knew he wouldn't outright kill him. And yet, that same murderous intent that he felt when he was younger never went away when he was with the tyrant. A chill that puffs up every hair on his body to a stand runs through his body with that repetitive sound, a reflective instinct that he couldn't control. A bead of sweat still leaves a cooling trail down the side of his neck, it was always felt heavy around Frieza.

It was a stalemate once again. Had been for the past eight years since you weren't there to relieve the tension with your calming aura and bright smile. 

If he was just a simple grunt, he would've been dead ten times over by now. Made an example of. The sadistic superior would've personally seen to it, defiled white hands to stain them with hot crimson blood that spilled from his fresh corpse in front the station's personnel for amusement even. But Vegeta still clung to your name, your cryostasis only froze you, your memories of him would be too fresh, a few moments would pass for you in your dreaming state. It would be too risky to get rid of the prince before that moment, you would call for the little monkey you raised like your own child.

You made him your child, saw a miracle in the vastness of space that wouldn't allow you to have a normal family while under Frieza's control, and it pinned the lizard into a troubled position.

One that Vegeta was so close to learning. Frieza did something to break your heart, the Saiyan knew he did. You were so depressed at the end, sobbing at the mere glance at the prince, mumbling repeated apologies for something you had no control over no doubt.

Something that you had caused inadvertently, that Frieza carried out with a god's level of wrath. And Frieza hid you away while he tirelessly tries to fix the problem he brought about. Put you on pause so you couldn't think about it anymore. 

Your tear-stained face hiding in Vegeta's shoulder as you cradled him close, words coming out in shaky breaths. You held him tight while he was locked in a stun, unable to process your apologies. He was the seven-year-old, and yet you were blubbering like a baby, remorse heavy in your body language. You felt so much pain for him, and he couldn't comfort you. He didn't understand why you were crying for him. That was the last interaction the prince remembers having with you before you suddenly disappeared. Just curling up with you on the bed and stiffly rubbing at your back, listening as you succumb to a fitful rest beside him.

Vegeta grits his teeth hard behind a small frown. "What are your orders, Lord Frieza?" He questions, every word felt painful and personal as he spoke.

The cruel leer on the reptile's face grows, a palm laying against his own cheek as he contemplates. "A simple planet devastation is fine; however, I'm strained on personnel. I'm afraid you'll have to do it with no reinforcements." He utters, tone in that perfect disguise of remorse and regret. "Oh dear. You'll be able to handle that for me, yes?"

"It will be done, sir." The young prince huffs, feeling agitation taking place of the fear of this emperor. He bows his head lightly before lifting himself to his feet. He's halfway to the exit when he feels a burning pain skim against his shoulder, the purple Ki beam made it clear as it bursts against the door with a scorching mark left behind.

Vegeta barely suppresses the hiss of pain as he claps his hand against the angry bleeding cut left on his shoulder. The prince had thought he kept his guard up, but the attack had come as a surprise. A frightening revelation. His spiky haired head snaps back to face the drole expressed Frieza, no longer the image of amusement, black lips drawn down as red eyes pierce the Saiyan's.

The frost demon takes a light sip of his drink before leaving the disgraced royal with his parting demands. "Have it done within three solar cycles and don't repair that injury." And then, waves the shamed male away.

Another example and resentment for Vegeta to keep in mind. 'Don't leave your back to me.'

"Yes sir." The words come out weakly, doors shuttering behind the prince and locking the lizard away from him once more.

He doesn't speak at all as he walks back to his apartment, rage fuming in his veins. A white glove ruined by it being saturated in his blood as he clenches aggressively at his wound. It was light scratch compared to what the tyrant could've done and has done before to other parties that the Saiyan had been witness to. 

"FUCK!" Vegeta roars, punching with all his strength at the door to his closet, the metal bending easily and the fist breaking through like paper to the other side. He pants, face red with restrained anger, muscles bunched with their tension and the wound bleeding even more. 

Just another day under the tyranny of Frieza as Prince Vegeta. 

And yet another day he wishes you could just come back. That he could just find you like he did all those years ago. He felt like he would lose himself to the cruelty that he was forced to be a part of, the mask he wore of Saiyan pride would become him.

It was one thing to be proud of yourself, but what did he have to pride in? He was a prince of a dying species, with the number of Saiyans living in single digits. A prince that couldn't protect himself, much less anyone else. 

And he was stuck under a powerful overlord who was playing a cat and mouse game until his demise for his amusement.


End file.
